


Sanguinius

by Sister of Silence (Orcbait)



Series: Perpetual Nonesense [7]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Creepy, F/M, Threats of Violence, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:29:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orcbait/pseuds/Sister%20of%20Silence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London, 1893. Life has seemingly quieted down as Charlotte and Lionel Nevermoor enjoy their life together and the laughter of their children. All seems well, until one Christmas morning an old acquintance turns up Lionel had never expected to see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanguinius

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kishiriaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kishiriaz/gifts).



“Shh, my little sweet,” Charlotte shushed quietly as she gently rocked the baby in her arms. Lord Nevermoor sat beside her. Roland, their young son, sat in between them while he played with his wooden building blocks. Normally neither would allow him to bring his toys to church, but the service on Christmas eve was too long for the child to sit idly and quiet throughout.

Lord Nevermoor leaned sideways towards Charlotte as the choir sang. “What is it, dearest?” he inquired, his voice lowered, as he briefly rested a hand on Roland's head. The boy's blonde hair was so fair it was almost white and despite his mother's best attempts it was as unruly as ever.

“I think he's hungry, it has been a while since last he drank,” Charlotte whispered as she tried to distract the baby with her gleaming, golden bracelet. She hoped he would not start to cry, that would be mildly embarrassing.

Lord Nevermoor lightly brushed the back of his fingers past his baby boy's cheek and the infant immediately looked up at him with large green eyes framed by brown curls. He might have his father's swarthy complexion but the soft features of his mother were unmistakable in the boy's gentle face. The little boy smiled broadly at his father, although he did not quite let go of his mother's bracelet. “Roland,” Lord Nevermoor said with a glance at his older son. “Go and find Milly.”

Roland looked down at the magnificent tower he had built out of his wooden blocks and seemed all together reluctant to abandon it as a stern pout etched itself onto his youthful features. “I will make certain it does not fall,” Lord Nevermoor promised, anticipating the boy's reservations. “Go on now.”

“Yes, papa,” Roland replied dutifully and used his father's knee as support while he climbed off the bench, slipping past his mother and out of the pew. Lord Nevermoor straightened and glanced behind them, watching the boy hurry down the aisle towards the back of the nave where the servants sat.

Mrs Baker caught him there, undoubtedly inquiring what he thought he was doing by the look of her. After a few moments Mrs Baker turned and beckoned someone behind her. A dumpy young woman with sallow skin and bound red hair rose timidly from among the servants and hurried towards her. Milly took the boy's hands as she and Mrs Baker exchanged words, after which she came walking towards them.

“My Lord, my Lady,” Milly greeted them quietly as she made a small obeisance and let go of Roland's hand. She held up her arms in offer to take the baby.

“Thank you, Milly,” Charlotte replied as she gave the baby boy to his wet nurse, clearly relieved he would not have to go hungry until the end of service.

“No need, ma'am. It's what I am here for,” Milly replied kindly as she adjusted her hold on the little boy and let Charlotte tuck his blanket in and around her arms. “My Lord,” she added when Charlotte had finished, inclining her head.

Lord Nevermoor nodded in reply as he handed Roland one of his building blocks, which the boy promptly put on top of the already precarious tower he had constructed. It was a small miracle in and of itself that it had not yet fallen.

Milly walked swiftly back down the aisle towards the servants' benches. “I shall be yonder at the entrance, Mrs Baker,” she said softly when she arrived.

“Yes, go on girl,” Mrs Baker returned, briefly caressing the babe in the girl's arms before taking a seat once more.

“I shall return shortly, Mrs Baker,” Milly promised before she continued on her way. She left the nave and crossed the sober narthex, passing under the bell tower to a secluded corner near the corridor to the vicarage. None would go there while service lasted, giving her the privacy she needed. Milly adjusted her hold on the little boy and unlaced her bodice just far enough to allow him to drink.

“There's a good babe,” Milly cooed softly when the baby promptly began to drink greedily. Clearly, he had been quite hungry.

“What a handsome little fellow,” a man remarked from beside her.

Milly all but jumped out of her skin, causing the boy to briefly lose his hold on her breast and voice a pitched complaint at being denied so suddenly. She turned swiftly towards the speaker, gathering the child closer against her.

“Oh, I am most sorry,” the man added apologetically at her spooked reaction and raised his hands in a placating gesture. He seemed a respectable sort with a soft-spoken manner about him. He must have just arrived for he was still wearing his overcoat and top hat, both lightly dusted with snow.

“No, no. It is me who should apologise, my Lord,” Milly replied quickly when she saw who had spoken. “I did not realise you were there.”

“No matter,” the gentleman said kindly, amusement in his green eyes as his gaze drifted up from the baby to her. “What's the little fellow's name?” he inquired as he took off his top hat and gloves. His short, raven black hair was mused up. Evidently he had been in a hurry to come here.

“Sebastian,” Milly replied as she looked at the gentleman from the corner of her eyes. His gaze had briefly lingered on her bare breast on its way up, she was certain of it. She smiled a little despite herself, embarrassed and yet pleased too.

“I bet your da picked that name,” the gentleman cooed at Sebastian as he leaned closer and put his gloves in his pocket. Sebastian reached out one of his little hands towards him, clearly having caught sight of his golden signet ring. The gentleman moved his top hat to his right hand instead and held up the left to the boy. Sebastian reached further and attempted to grasp his little finger and suckle the wet nurse's tit at the same time, smiling around her nipple in happiness.

“Such a pretty thing,” the gentleman added as he glanced up at Milly, a smile playing around his lips as he playfully moved his finger out of the baby's reach a few times before allowing him to grasp it. “Just like his mother.”

“Oh, oh no, my Lord!” Milly spluttered, her cheeks colouring at the mistake. “The little Lord is not mine.”

“He isn't?” the gentleman inquired, his tone incredulous as he pointedly looked from the wet nurse to the babe in her arms and back, as if judging their likeness.

“Oh no, the little Lord belongs to Lady Nevermoor,” Milly quickly amended, caught quite off guard by the amicable stranger. She smiled and blushed at the thought that he had mistaken the tiny dear to be hers.

“Truly?” He inquired, feigning surprise. “Now that you say it, I suppose he does have her sweet features and beautiful curls.” Evidently finished with drinking, the baby boy abandoned the wet nurse's breast to wholly play with the stranger's hand, grasping at the golden ring. “You are such a little angel, aren't you?” the gentleman chuckled as if privy to a cosmic jest only he understood.

Milly attempted to fasten her bodice, but that proved difficult with the baby wriggling in her arms as it tried to get to the kind stranger. A cold draft passed through the narthex just then and she suppressed a shiver. She promptly pulled up the warm blanket the baby was wrapped in and tucked it more securely around him, covering her decency a little in the process as well.

“This is a sordid spot for the little one, far too cold,” the gentleman observed, though not unkindly, as he retrieved his hand. The boy pouted magnificently, turning the full force of his green eyes on him. One of the corners of the gentleman's lips twitched up. The little brat was just like his mother. He glanced up at the wet nurse then and turned his smile perfectly pleasant as he indicated the corridor behind them. “Further along will be better, I should think.”

Milly looked uncertain, her gaze switching between the kind gentleman and the deserted corridor. Lord Nevermoor had expressively instructed her to never be out of his sight with Sebastian, and from here she could still just see the Earl and his lady wife sitting near the front of the nave.

“The little thing might fall ill,” the gentleman added, a concerned frown creasing his brow as he looked at Sebastian, who was trying once more to reach for him. “Your ma would be so very grieved if she lost you too, wouldn't she?” he cooed, allowing Sebastian to grasp his finger once more and eliciting little noises of happiness from the baby.

Milly nodded. He was right, of course. “Lady Nevermoor would be devastated if she lost another babe,” she agreed as she turned towards the corridor. She would never forgive herself if she caused the little one sickness. Certainly, Lord Nevermoor would not. 

The gentleman smiled contently as he put a hand to her shoulder, lightly urging her with. “And we wouldn't want that, would we love?”

* * *

Lord Nevermoor had not truly expected Milly to return. However, it was odd that she had not sent word to that effect. Predictably, Charlotte had started fidgeting the moment she realised this too despite his best efforts to calm her. Surely, the little babe had fallen asleep and Milly had kept him with her so not to disturb his slumber. It was not at all unusual for him to fall soundly asleep after feeding. Regardless, Charlotte kept plucking at the elaborate folds of her skirts and that told him more than enough.

“I will go and see,” Lord Nevermoor said softly eventually, giving in to her nervous demeanour. Service was nearly at a close anyway. “Roland, stay with your mother.”

Roland glanced up from his wooden building blocks and nodded solemnly as he wrapped one arm around his mother's, who was assisting him with building another tower. “Yes, papa.”

Lord Nevermoor smiled at the boy and stroked his hair affectionately before rising from his seat. Charlotte grasped his hand as he rose, drawing his attention back to her. “Do tell,” she implored, worry clearly written in her blue eyes.

“Straight away, dearest,” Lord Nevermoor promised and pressed a kiss to his wife's hand before straightening and striding down the aisle. There were some whispers as he did so, but considering they had a babe with them none would be truly shocked at his leaving.

Lord Nevermoor glanced across the servants' benches but when he did not spot Milly there a frown slowly congealed onto his features. He left the nave and entered the sober narthex but the young wet nurse was not there either. It was a little draughty here, perhaps she had not left the nave after all? He turned and was about to re-enter the nave when he heard a voice he had thought he would never hear again.

“Look, deary! There's your da!”

Lord Nevermoor turned back slowly and the moment he saw his suspicions confirmed his frown turned into a scowl. “Alistair.”

“Good evening, Lionel,” Alistair Blackpool greeted him with a grin and a flash of white teeth. He had dyed his hair black and it had been cut according to the latest fashion but his features were the same and his eyes were the calculating green they had always been. “You know, we can't all be flesh-moulders,” Alistair remarked as he tucked the crumpled blanket around the baby curled up in the crook of his arm. “Some of us have to do it the old fashioned way.”

“What do you want?” Lord Nevermoor snapped before Alistair could babble on, shielding his thoughts behind walls of hate and ice.

“What do I want?” Alistair inquired as he glanced up from the baby, blinking in surprise. The boy's baby dress was a little rumpled and there appeared to be dark smears of dirt across his cheek and hands but he seemed otherwise fine. “I already have everything I want.”

“Do not play me for a fool,” Lord Nevermoor replied icily as he glared at the homicidal maniac holding his infant son. “What do you want from me?”

“From you? By God, Lionel, the universe does not revolve around you,” Alistair answered as he returned his attention to the baby curled up in the crook of his arm. “Such an affable little fellow you fathered. He's clearly got that from his ma.” Alistair held his hand up in front of Sebastian and the little boy made a noise of joy as he grasped at the offered fingers, tugging them happily and attempting to suckle on them. A smile played around Alistair's lips as he glanced up from the corner of his eyes. “I think he likes me, Lionel.”

Lord Nevermoor's eyes narrowed dangerously as he contemplated how best to remove his little son from his nemesis' grasp. It was just then that Sebastian hiccuped, the little burp bringing up a dab of redness.

A noise of mild surprise escaped Alistair and he immediately produced a kerchief from his pocket. “We'll clean that right up, shall we little fellow?” he cooed at the baby as he gently wiped the boy's mouth.

Lord Nevermoor realised in that very instant that the smears he had noticed earlier were not dirt. His glare turned positively lethal. “What did you do t-.”

“Don't fret, Lionel,” Alistair interrupted dismissively as he cleaned the boy's cheek and small hands too. “It is not his.”

“Where is Milly?” Lord Nevermoor inquired, although he had a growing suspicion.

“A better place?” Alistair returned askance, amusement never quite leaving his green eyes.

Lord Nevermoor's hands had clenched into fists at his side despite himself, the urge to take a swing at his crazed counterpart swiftly becoming overwhelming. Perhaps Milly was lazy, certainly she was regularly slow to respond, but that did not mean she deserved the kind of fate Alistair had undoubtedly delivered to her.

“It wasn't fair at all, was it?” Alistair cooed at Sebastian as he stroked the little boy's cheek. “She was your nurse maid but she liked your brother Ronnie far better, didn't she?” He chuckled as the small boy grasped his little finger, intent upon his signet ring once more. He glanced at Lord Nevermoor, smiling still. “We did not like her at all, so we did away with her.”

The bells in the tower above them rang, interrupting him and announcing service had concluded.

“Did you know she enjoyed washing Ronnie?” Alistair inquired when the noise had died down and the first churchgoers appeared in the narthex on their way out of church. He walked up to Lord Nevermoor until he stood beside him, lowering his voice and leaning slightly towards him as if speaking confidentially. “Especially his little prick.” 

Lord Nevermoor's eyes narrowed suspiciously and when their gazes crossed Alistair nodded with solemn conviction.

“No, I didn't think you did, either, that's why I slogged through her devilish thoughts for you,” Alistair commented as he glanced down at Sebastian, who appeared to be torn between playing with Alistair's thumb or continuing to paw at the ring around his little finger. “Who knows what sinful thoughts she had as this little babe suckled her teat,” he continued on a clearly amused and knowing tone before glancing sideways and up at Lord Nevermoor. “I really did you a favour this time, Lionel.”

Lightning crackled across Lord Nevermoor's knuckles, but before he could reply a scream tore through the general babel of those leaving the church. It came from somewhere down the corridor behind them.

“Oh!” Alistair chuckled. “I think they found her – ouch!” he exclaimed in hushed tones as Sebastian settled for grasping both fingers and proceeded to attempt to twist them in directions they wouldn't go. “You naughty little devil, what would your ma say if she heard of this, hrm?” he chided as he attempted to extract his fingers from the boy's grasp, which made the little one pout magnificently. 

Lord Nevermoor had turned towards Alistair by then, and it was as if he noticed the agitated lightning jumping across his erstwhile partner's knuckles only then. “Really, Lionel? In a church? With this many people around?” he inquired, his expression askance.

There was a soft noise then, drawing both their attention to Sebastian. His large green eyes had grown distinctly moist and his lower lip trembled. “Shush, don't do that,” Alistair implored as he lulled the boy cradled in his arms. “You look just like your ma when you do that.”

Alistair glanced up at Lord Nevermoor as he allowed the boy to play with his little finger and signet ring once more as a peace offering of sorts, continuing their conversation where he'd left off a moment before. “But then you never did care for churches, did you?”

“No,” Lord Nevermoor answered quite needlessly. “Now hand me back my son, Blackpool.”

Alistair's expression turned sullen as he returned his attention to Sebastian. He wriggled his little finger, eliciting chirping noises of happiness from the boy, who only grasped his finger tighter. Alistair smiled contently at that and glanced up at Lord Nevermoor from the corner of his eyes. “I think he wants to stay with me.” He lifted his hand slightly, showing how tightly the boy held on to it, by way of proof.

“Don't force me to-,” Lord Nevermoor started, his voice dangerously quiet as he fixed Alistair a look that would have skewered lesser men.

It was then that Charlotte appeared from the crowd of churchgoers leaving the church. She spotted them immediately, her gaze homing in on her child like a little hawk.

“Ah! There's your mama!” Alistair exclaimed amicably and promptly approached her. The moment Sebastian caught sight of his mother he reached for her and started wriggling in Alistair's grasp, making little noises. “His da was bragging about how lovely you both are,” he added with a wink as he gently handed the baby to Charlotte.

“You are too kind, sir,” Charlotte replied with a blush of modesty as she took her baby boy and wrapped his warm blanket around him and her arm. Only when she had ascertained the little one was tucked safe and secure in her hold did she offer her hand to the charming gentleman.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Nevermoor,” Alistair said as he gently lifted her hand and pressed a light kiss to her gloved fingertips.

“And you, Mister?” Charlotte inquired kindly.

“Evenglade,” Alistair replied with a hint of amusement as Lord Nevermoor appeared at his wife's side like a looming shadow.

“Mr Evenglade,” Charlotte repeated with a courteous little nod. Roland stood slightly behind his mother, clutching her skirts as he eyed the stranger warily.

Alistair smiled broadly when he saw the young boy, glancing briefly across Charlotte's shoulder at Lord Nevermoor. “You didn't tell me you already had a boy, Lionel,” he remarked and bluntly ignored Lord Nevermoor's warning glare as he sank down on his haunches. “Hello there, big fellow. What is your name?”

“Roland,” Roland replied softly as he retreated further behind his mother and grasped the leg of his father's trousers for good measure.

“I apologise, good sir,” Charlotte said with a smile as she glanced up from the baby. “Roland is a little timid towards strangers.”

“There is no apology necessary, Lady Nevermoor. I do believe all boys prefer the nearness of their mama's skirts to strange men,” Alistair replied kindly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He rose and it was only then, and possibly due to that angle, that he noticed the light, well-concealed swell of Charlotte's belly. “And a third little angel on the way, I see.”

Charlotte blushed terribly as Alistair grinned at Lord Nevermoor. “You have been busy, old friend,” he chuckled companionably, causing Charlotte's blush to turn an even deeper shade of scarlet. “Certainly,” he concluded as he straightened. “You are both blessed.”

“That we are,” Charlotte agreed as she glanced sideways at her husband, her blue eyes full of love.

“Now, I mustn’t keep you from dinner. Lady Nevermoor, Lionel,” Alistair said with a little bow before putting his top hat and gloves on, smiling all the while. “Merry Christmas, to both of you.”

Charlotte smiled kindly. “Merry Christmas, Mr Evenglade,” she replied pleasantly.

Alistair lightly brushed the back of his fingers past Sebastian's cheek, drawing a broad smile from the little boy before meeting his mother's gaze and nodding slightly in goodbye, a gesture Charlotte returned. A moment later, he had disappeared into the crowd spilling around them. 

“What a kind gentleman, we surely must invite him to tea,” Charlotte remarked as she smiled at Sebastian. The little boy had fallen asleep. “Who was he?”

“An old acquaintance,” Lord Nevermoor answered on a tone that meant further discussion was not an option. He put an arm around her shoulders as he took Roland's small hand in his own. “Come, we mustn't linger.”

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: A lot of time and hard work went into the creation and publication of this story and as such it is very dear to me. I would love to hear what you thought on it. And please, share this story freely but credit me and link back to me. Thank you!


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